“So do you,” she murmured. Behind her Delia made a sound, and Charlotte’s gaze snapped to Charles’s surprised expression.
“I mean, of course, that you look extremely handsome, my lord.”
“Thank you,” he said, showing his dimple. “I knew what you meant. All I need is a jeweled tiara and I would rival the queen.”
This time, she did giggle.How had she ever thought him too stuffy?
“Are you ladies ready?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Charles intended to get Charlotte alone even if he had to dunk Delia in the punch bowl after dinner or lock her in the water-closet while he absconded with her silk-clad charge. They arrived at the Fitzwilliam’s dinner party, and not only couldn’t he take his gaze from his companion, neither could the other single men in the room.
Charlotte was the embodiment of any man’s desire in her fetching fiery-orange gown that set off her deep-brown hair, giving it streaks of fire. More than that — it molded to her curves as if she were gilded in the brilliantly colored silk. Short sleeves showed off her shapely arms, and the artful décolletage gave a hint of the creamy swell of her generous bosom. Not too much as to appear wanton. In fact, her dressmaker had done an admirable job. His confectioner looked as well-turned out as any woman in the nobility.
And more than anything, he wanted to elevate her into the nobility as his wife. Recalling his last thwarted attempt, he intended a vastly different approach from the dry and detached way he’d asked for her hand. Knowing her warm heart as he did, it was plain to him — she wanted a passionate pronouncement of his love, and absolutely, he was ready to give it.
After partaking of wine in the Fitzwilliam’s drawing room, he and Charlotte were among some of the guests spilling over into the adjoining parlor since there were about forty. He’d dined there before and knew the dining room would seat everyone, not in a spacious manner as if they were at a palace dinner, but well enough. Besides, he didn’t mind close quarters in this situation.
Adding to his glee, the chaperones had already been taken downstairs for a separate dining experience, and would return for the dancing portion of the evening. Charles felt like a schoolboy whose stern headmaster had retired right before an assembly. Naturally, some of the guests would take advantage and be on their worst behavior, those who most desperately needed a chaperone. He and Charlotte had a healthy dose of respect for one another, and while he would love to steal her away and claim her full lips, he would do nothing to compromise her, and he knew she would do nothing to entrap him.
Truthfully, he wouldn’t mind her trying to trap him into a hasty marriage. A little adventure with Charlotte sounded grand except for how her reputation might suffer.
Watching her chatting with Baron and Baroness Winslow, he vowed never to cause her a moment of heartache. She was bubbling with joy, sipping white wine, talking animatedly about the concert they’d seen together, and then ...Oddsbodkins!She started talking about the Aldgate pump and the horrors that seeing it in person had brought up.
Dear God!As her tone and words turned serious, the baron began to frown and his wife’s lips pursed in disapproval.Hardly the light chitchat acceptable at one of these gatherings.
“Miss Rare-Foure,” Charles interrupted before it got any worse, “did you tell the Winslows about—?” His usually quick mind flailed. Don’t talk about her making marzipan or running a shop, as neither would go over well. Don’t mention Covent Garden, as the Winslows would certainly not have gone there but sent their servants. Then he recalled something. “—About your various trips to the Continent? I once ran into the baron and his wife in Paris. I think they share a love of that city with you. Didn’t you say you’d been to the Louvre?”
And Charlotte, bless her heart, nodded to him, a sparkle in her eyes. After a brief discourse on her own experiences, she asked the couple many questions. Once steered on the right path, she made trifling conversation seem effortless as well as genuine. Truly another one of her gifts, undoubtedly gleaned from years of helping customers
And then he had the pleasure of escorting her in to dinner. The dining room was as he’d envisioned. The table with all its leaves stretched out to the size of a small room. Lace, candles, and flowers adorned the center, and footmen surrounded the perimeter.
After pulling out Charlotte’s chair for her, Charles was settled snugly as he’d hoped, next to the most wonderful woman in the world. Their arms were practically touching.
“The Winslows were very nice, my lord,” she said as she stripped off her gloves, placed them in her lap, and then put her napkin atop them, while all the ladies around them did similarly. “Everyone is so kind.”
He didn’t disabuse her of her rose-colored notions. But he’d seen two couples talking about her, although probably just wondering whom he’d brought to the party. More than one man had ogled her, and he’d overheard some female sniff loudly and disparage the loud color of Charlotte’s fabulous gown. The woman, dressed in dull tan, looked like a stick insect compared to his love’s curvy form and vibrant coloring. He couldn’t be happier.
“As soon as Lord Fitzwilliam invited me,” he told her, “I knew you would enjoy it.”
She glowed at him, radiating pleasure, and his insides tightened.How easy it was to make her happy!He wanted to be the one to bring that smile to her face and to do so for the rest of their lives.
So when her happiness dissipated with the unexpected conversation that occurred during dessert, Charles felt helpless to do anything.A terrible and unusual sensation!
“Normally, as many of you know,” Lady Fitzwilliam began, “I serve confectionery along with cake and tarts and whatnot.” She gestured to the desserts that had been lined up in the middle of the table after the last course had been cleared.
“However, you also may have heard in our midst, right in the heart of Mayfair, we are losing our favorite confectionery.”
Charles felt Charlotte stiffen beside him.
“Many of you probably read the review indicating their slip in quality right before they closed their doors. Such a shame. I don’t know how it could have happened. We have always had the most delicious chocolates from that shop.”
“And toffee,” Lord Fitzwilliam called out from the other end of the table.
Charles heard Charlotte rustling beside him, seeing her bosom rise as she took a deep breath, undoubtedly to speak. To interrupt the hosts would be afaux pasfrom which she would not easily recover. Where her hand rested upon the white tablecloth, he reached up and brushed it ever so discreetly with the back of his own, feeling her jump. She glanced at him, and he shook his head slightly to warn her.
She frowned, an expression of dismay that pained him, but she would have her chance to rebut the rumors, just not right at that moment.
